Western Castle
by SelimPensFiction
Summary: When a murder is committed in Sheriff Beckett's town, an investigation leads directly to the famous author, Richard Castle, recently arrived on a speaking tour. AU. Very AU.
1. Chapter 1

Précis: When a murder is committed in Sheriff Beckett's town, an investigation leads directly to the famous author, Richard Castle, recently arrived on a speaking tour. AU. Very AU.

_Note to readers: No one would use pejorative words like "injun" or "squaw" today. But this is a story set in the 1800's, and some of the villains herein include racism among their many shortcomings._

* * *

The woman who entered the Sheriff's office was wild-eyed, drenched, and shivering. Deputy Esposito directed her to a chair and wrapped her in a blanket he fetched from the back room.

"Bad night to be outside," Esposito said. "It's teaming out there. You warm yourself up a bit then let me know how I can help." He went to the desk and poured brandy into a glass. "Here, drink this down."

The woman gulped down the drink then passed the glass back to the deputy. When her shivering subsided, she ran her hand through her stringy, wet hair, pushing it out of her face, and said, "The sheriff. I need to see the sheriff."

"That won't be possible, ma'am," the deputy said. "She's out of town, not due back until after midnight. She can see you tomorrow. Is there anything I can do?"

"No! No." She stood up, letting the blanket fall onto the chair. "I'll see her tomorrow, then. In the morning. It's extremely urgent. I'm staying at the inn. Maria Holsten is my name." And with that, she left.

Sitting down and setting his feet up on the desk, the deputy muttered, "Well, don't that beat all."

* * *

It was one AM when the coach finally pulled into Whitefall. Sheriff Beckett was exhausted, but gathered her strength so she could step lightly to the ground and walk briskly to her rooms. It wouldn't do for the sheriff, especially a female sheriff, to show weakness.

Glancing down the street, dark and quiet this time of night, Beckett shook her head at how the town had changed over the past eighteen months. With the mines that had opened up, and the construction of a railway line underway, the population had burgeoned from a few hundred to well over a thousand. That had brought new wealth into town. A second feed store had opened; a new general store was under construction at the opposite end of town to Fran's; and the inn was most often full to bursting. Jake was talking of adding a new floor or building an entirely new hotel to accommodate the increasing number of visitors.

The rain had finally let up and was now just a light drizzle. Still, the road was soft from the recent downpour, and her shoes were sinking into the mud. She crossed over to the boardwalk, closing her eyes as she walked, letting the rain refresh her.

Despite the hour, she stopped into the office. Esposito was there, snoring lightly at the desk, his hat tipped over his eyes. She considered waking him, but just for tonight decided to give him a break. After all, he and Ryan had pulled several double shifts lately. She lightly closed the door behind her and continued walking. Her rooms were in the poorer part of town, but that was deliberate. Her presence helped curb some of the boisterous behaviour that might otherwise take place.

When she reached her rooms, Beckett closed the door behind her and leant against it for a moment, closing her eyes. A long trip but worth it. Her testimony had helped convict a man guilty of three murders.

On second thought, almost worth it. Was anything worth having to wear a dress and behave contritely for the benefit of a jury? After taking the witness stand, the defence lawyer had strutted over to her and asked, his voice thick with amusement, if a little woman like her was really qualified to be sheriff. She'd answered matter of factly.

"Have you heard of Butcher Bill Clemens?" she'd asked him back.

He hadn't expected her response. "Sure," he said, uncertainly.

"He killed nine people, including lawmen from three other towns. I captured him singled handedly. So yes, I think I'm qualified." She followed that up by batting her eyes and smiling sweetly.

That had shut him up.

Smiling at that memory, she unbuckled her holster, undressed, and climbed into bed.

_She was walking down a dark lane with her mother, holding her hand. A man stepped out of the darkness and blocked their way. "Well, what have we got ourselves here?" he said. "An injun lady and her little squaw."_

_There wasn't much light, but Kate could see that the man was large, much larger than her mother. Her mother pushed Kate behind. Clutching her mother's skirt, she could only hear what happened next. "We have no business with you," her mother said. "Let us pass."_

"_Oh, I think we have some business. Some pretty business indeed."_

_Her mother moved back a step and pulled a knife out of her bag._

_The man chuckled. Then Kate heard an explosion and watched in horror as her mother collapsed in front of her. "Momma!" Kate knelt over her mother, turning her over. She was bleeding from the chest. so much blood, and now Kate was covered in blood as well. She looked up to see the man, gun in hand approaching her. _

_Kate stood and backed up, frozen in fear. _

"_For what it's worth, child," the man said, "it pains me to do this."_

"_Me too," another voice said. And suddenly there was a boy, a teenager, plunging her mother's knife into the man's leg. He howled, dropping the gun as he pulled the knife out. The boy scooped up the gun and, with trembling hands, aimed it at the man. With a look of hate, the man turned and dashed down the lane, limping and cursing. _

_The boy turned to Kate. "Run," he said._

_Kate was still frozen._

"_Run!"_

Beckett's eyes sprang open and, fast as lightning, she grabbed the pistol from under the pillow. Was that a shot she'd heard? No, it was the door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"Ryan," her deputy answered from the hallway. "Sorry, Sheriff, but it looks like there's been a murder."

"I'll be right there," Beckett answered, now fully alert.

She dressed quickly. The sight of a woman in what were traditionally men's raiments had at first raised eyebrows in the town. But now they were used to her, and folks didn't but nod as she passed by on the street. She started with a mauve shirt and beige trousers. Next she pulled on her nearly knee-high leather boots. They were sturdy but comfortable. And the knife sequestered in the left boot came in handy from time to time.

After buckling her holster and tying the string to her right thigh, she considered how it and the weight of her revolver were like part of her; she felt naked without them. Finally, the coat she loved: lightweight leather, brown tanned, knee-length, with plenty of pockets, and not so awkward as to get in the way if she got caught up in a fistfight. She was in a hurry, but still needed to look the part of sheriff. After pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, she was ready.

"No one gets away with murder in my town," she said to herself. "Not on my watch."

* * *

Deputy Ryan led the way into the inn. Beckett nodded at Caroline who was on duty at the desk. Glancing to the right, she saw the doors to the saloon were open and all the chairs resting on tables. Caroline's boy was mopping the floor. The corridor straight ahead led to the two ground floor rooms. Ryan led her up the staircase to the second floor and along the corridor to the right.

Beckett stopped short when she saw the victim.

"Something, isn't it?" Esposito commented.

She was lying on the bed. Her torso, apparently naked, was covered in rose petals. Sunflowers had been placed over her eyes.

"First time for everything," Beckett said. "Do we know who she is?"

The deputies were silent for a moment. Beckett noticed Ryan staring pointedly at Esposito.

"What?" she said.

"Her name's Maria Holsten," Esposito said. "She came into the office last night, around ten, said she wanted to speak to you. When I told her it would have to wait until morning, she told me her name, said she was staying at the inn, then left."

"Shouldn't have scared her off," Ryan said.

"I was nice to her," said Esposito. "Gave her a blanket and shot of brandy to warm her up. If it'd been you on duty, one look at your ugly mug through the window and she wouldn't have said that much."

Dammit. "Well, it can't be helped now," Beckett said. She stepped up to the bed and moved some of the petals. Looks like she was stabbed in the chest," she said. "I don't see any marks on her hands or face. Doesn't look like she put up a fight."

"Well, she's not a local," Ryan said.

The others looked at him.

"Obviously," Ryan continued. "I'll see if anyone else knows her or how she came into town."

"There's something familiar about this," Beckett said.

Ryan smiled. "I was wondering if you'd pick up on that. Guess who was in town last night, reading from his latest book?"

Ryan handed Beckett a copy of _Flowers for Your Grave _by Richard Castle. Beckett's eyes widened. "Of course," she said. "The victim in this book was laid out the same way."

"I was at his reading last night," Ryan said. "Bought the book there. He autographed it for me, look."

Beckett flipped open the cover and read the inscription. "For lawman Kevin Ryan. May you always get your man. Best regards, Richard Castle."

"Let's bring Mr. Castle here," said Beckett, "and see what he has to say for himself."

"You think he did it?" Esposito asked.

"That'd be kind of obvious, wouldn't it?" Ryan said.

"Perhaps. But we're certainly not going to rule him out. Besides, where did the killer get so many rose petals? He's from out of town. He brought the flowers with him, which means this murder's premeditated. He followed Miss Holsten here, then killed her. Possibly to prevent her from speaking to me.

"Ryan, go fetch Mr. Castle. Esposito, get the sawbones. I'll stay here and go through Miss Holsten's belongings."

Ryan was the first back with a bleary-eyed, bedraggled man with unkempt hair wearing a jacket, vest, hastily tied cravat, and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

"Richard Castle?" Beckett said.

"Yes, what's this…" Castle spotted the body, "about." He glanced from the body to Beckett, back to the body, and to Beckett again.

"You're the sheriff in these parts?" Castle asked.

Beckett nodded. "Sheriff Beckett. You've met Deputy Ryan."

"A female sheriff. I love that!" Castle beamed. "And that coat. You must have a great story to tell."

"I'm more interested in this woman's story, Mr. Castle," Beckett said, beckoning to the dead woman.

"Flowers for Your Grave," Castle said. "Someone read my book and copied this scene."

"Perhaps," said Beckett. "Or perhaps it was the author. Bringing his work to life, so to speak."

"Me?" Castle said. "I only commit my murders on paper. Don't actually do them. A lot more lucrative, a lot less rope."

Just then the door opened and Esposito entered with the local sawbones.

"Lanie," Beckett said.

"Sheriff," Doctor Lanie Parish acknowledged. "And who do we have here?"

"Richard Castle," the author said, shaking the doctor's hand. "A female sheriff _and_ doctor. I love this town!"

"_The_ Richard Castle?" Lanie asked. She saw Beckett's nod, then noted the body. "Ah. Flowers for Your Grave. I see why you're here. I love your books, Mr. Castle. You have a real gift for the details of death."

Beckett cut off Castle's reply. "For now, Lanie, can you have a look at the victim and tell me your impressions? And as for you, Mr. Castle, where were you last night after 10 o'clock?"

"Where was I? I was here. Well not here in this room, but here in the inn. I did some writing after the talk then went to bed. Next thing I knew your deputy was breaking down my door."

"Too bad you don't have an alibi. I'm going to ask you not to leave town until further notice."

"Leave? Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this. Maybe I can help."

Beckett smiled. "This isn't one of your books, Mr. Castle. Don't leave town, but I don't want you underfoot either."

Beckett turned her attention to the doctor. "Lanie, what do you have?"

"Same as you, I expect," the doctor said. "Two stab wounds, no other apparent marks on the body. From the amount of blood, I'd say she was killed right here. I'll have her brought back to my office so I can examine the body in more detail."

"Thanks," Beckett said, as Lanie took her leave. Turning around, she saw that Castle was still in the room, examining the writing desk. The sheriff sighed. "I thought I asked you to leave," she said.

"Something was written on this pad of paper," said Castle.

"Maybe so, but it's gone now. There's no way to know what it said."

"Ah," said Castle. "Watch and learn."

Withdrawing a pencil from his satchel, Castle lightly sketched over the paper. Beckett moved beside him.

"You see?" Castle said, tearing off the page. "Now we can make out what was written on the page above."

Beckett nodded. "Clever, I'll give you that. What does it say?"

Castle squinted. "Jonas Smith. General store. Mean anything to you?"

"That's Frank's boy, isn't it?" Esposito said. For Castle's benefit he added, "Frank owns the store."

"I'll go pay the Smith's a visit. Meanwhile, see if you can find out who else is new in town."

Beckett regarded the author. He was clearly intelligent underneath the boyish charm, and equally clearly, he was eager to be part of the investigation. However, that might be because he was guilty. Keeping a close eye on him wouldn't hurt, either way. "Mr. Castle, care to tag along?"

Castle grinned. "It'd be a pleasure, Sheriff."

On the way, Castle said to Beckett, "Sheriff, I think I may have found my new muse."

"Really," said Beckett. "And what's the matter with your old one?"

"Um, he's dead. The inspiration for Sheriff Storm."

"Sorry, to hear that," Beckett said. "A good man?"

Castle nodded. "A Texas Ranger, actually. Killed in an ambush some time back."

"Mr. Castle, are you saying you want to write a book about me?"

"About you? No. Inspired by you? Definitely."

Beckett sighed. "As far as I'm concerned, you're still a suspect for this murder. Let's focus on that for now, shall we?"

"Right," said Castle.

A moment later, Castle said, "You're part Indian, aren't you?"

Beckett glanced at him. Few who didn't know her could tell. "My mother was Apache. What of it?"

"Just makes you all the more fascinating is all," Castle said with a smile. Then he stopped.

"What?" Beckett said.

"You said was. Your mother was murdered, wasn't she?"

Beckett said nothing.

"And the killer was never brought to justice." Castle paused, then looked up again at Beckett. "That's why you became a sheriff."

Beckett regarded Castle levelly. "Don't presume to know me… Castle. Let's get going."

As they entered the store, they were nearly bowled over by a beefy, middle-aged man, dressed all in white with a long, dirty white apron.

"Sheriff? I was just coming to find you," Frank Smith said.

"What is it?" Beckett asked.

"Our boy is missing, and there's a mess down here. Look at it. We're afraid something happened to him."

Beckett glanced at the store. Cartons, bottles, all manor of merchandise had been upset. Clearly, there'd been a struggle.

"When was the last time you saw him?" Castle asked.

"Last night. He finished his chores and went to bed. That's the last we saw of him."

"Did anyone come by the store yesterday that you don't know?" asked Beckett.

Smith shook his head slowly, then looked up at his wife who'd been standing behind the counter. She blew her nose then likewise shook her head.

"OK," said Beckett slowly. "We'll do everything we can to find your boy. Meanwhile, the best thing you can do is stay here in case he comes back."

As they exited the store, Castle said, "This has to be related."

"Agreed," Beckett said. "The question is how. What does the connection between Jonas Smith and Maria Holsten?"

Castle shook his head. "Sounds like this would be a good time not to be underfoot. I'll let you get back to what you do. I feel some creative inspiration coming on. I'm going to get some breakfast and do some writing."

Beckett, lost in thought, barely noticed Castle as he headed back to the inn. Making a decision, she headed to the doctor's office to see what Lanie had uncovered.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Castle entered the sheriff's office. Beckett and Ryan looked up.

"Can we help you, Mr. Castle?" Beckett asked.

"Was just wondering if there were any developments."

"The case is ongoing," said Beckett. "And yes, you're still a suspect. Why don't you…"

But Beckett was interrupted as Esposito burst into the office. "Sheriff!" he said breathlessly. "The boy's back. Jonas Smith."

"He's alright?" Beckett asked.

Esposito nodded. "He's with his folks."

Beckett and Castle looked at each other, then they all scrambled out of the office and raced to the store.

Dorothy Smith was weeping again, but this time with her boy in her arms. His father was grinning broadly, pipe in hand.

Nodding to Beckett, Frank turned to his son and said, "Jonas, boy, here's the sheriff come to speak to you. Dorothy, let the poor boy get some air. He's not going anywhere now."

Beckett sat down on a stool near the boy. He was ten, with long tousled hair and dirt-smeared face. "Jonas, can you tell me what happened last night?"

Jonas sniffed. "Heard a noise down here, came down to see. Next thing, a man puts a bag on my head, he covers my mouth and carries me like a sack of potatoes outside and onto his horse. We rode, then set down somewhere. I was tied up, real tight. There were others, I heard them talking quiet-like, couldn't make out the words. I woke up when there was shoutin'. I heard a couple of guns firing. I stayed low, quiet. Then someone cuts the ropes off me and pulls off the bag. It was a man, he wore a mask, said I was safe and he'd take me back. He set me on his horse and let me off at the edge of town, over by the creek."

"Was he one of them do you think?" Castle asked.

"No, I don't think so," the boy said. "He was nice. Gentle with me. The other men were rough. Cursed a lot. This one hardly said nothin'."

The boy looked down. "Is there anything else?" Beckett asked. "Anything more you can tell me?"

"Show them, Jonas," his father said.

The boy sighed, then withdrew something from his pocket. He held out his clenched hand, then slowly opened it. "He gave me this," he said.

It was a silver bullet.

Beckett's eyes widened. Castle backed away from the boy, shock written on his face, and whispered, "You were rescued by the Lone Ranger."

Then his face split into an ear-to-ear grin. "This just became the best case ever," Castle said.

* * *

_Acknowledgements:_

_Thanks to Twisha for her invaluable comments and suggestions. _

_And, in advance, to my readers, for allowing me to take privileges with Castle and certain legends of the old west in this alternate universe story._


	2. Chapter 2

_"Show them, Jonas," his father said._

_The boy sighed, then withdrew something from his pocket. He held out his clenched hand, then slowly opened it. "He gave me this," he said. _

_It was a silver bullet._

_Beckett's eyes widened. Castle backed away from the boy, shock written on his face, and whispered, "You were rescued by the Lone Ranger."_

_Then his face split into an ear-to-ear grin. "This just became the best case ever."_

* * *

Beckett glared at him. "Keep your fanciful theories to yourself, Castle."

Turning back to the boy, Beckett asked, "Do you know a woman named Maria Holsten? We think she got into town just yesterday."

Jonas nodded. "I made a delivery to the inn late yesterday. She was on her way out and stopped me. Asked if I'd like to make a dollar. Sure, I said. She said, alls I had to do was watch for a man name of Coonan. If I hear of him, to tell her right away. She told me her name and asked me for mine, and where she could find me. She wrote it down on some paper she had."

"Jonas Smith!" his mother said, crossing her arms. "What have I told you? No good comes of getting yourself mixed up with strangers."

Jonas, his face safely hidden from his mother, rolled his eyes, earning a guffaw from his father. Thinking better of it, Frank Smith quickly translated the guffaw into a cough.

"Alright," said Beckett. "You've been very helpful, Jonas, thank you." To his father, she said, "I don't think they'll come for him again, but just in case, don't let him out of your sight until you hear otherwise."

Glancing at his wife, Frank said, "I don't think there's any fear of that. Thanks, Sheriff."

"Just one last thing, Jonas," Castle said. "What colour was his horse?"

"It was white, sir. Pure white."

That earned Castle another glare from Beckett as she beckoned him and her deputies outside.

No sooner were they out the door than Castle burst, "It was him! Come on, it was him."

"More than likely it was one of the gang," Beckett said. "He had cold feet and brought the boy back."

"And gave him a silver bullet?" Castle asked.

"The Lone Ranger is a myth, Castle. A fairy tale. And anyway this is just a distraction. A woman has been murdered, and now we have another link in the chain. She was worried about a man named Coonan. We have to find out who he is.

"Ryan, check with the inn and the stables to see if anyone by that name has been in town recently. Esposito, take a ride out to the neighbouring landowners, see if they've hired any hands by that name. I'll ask around to see if anyone saw a stranger enter or leave the inn last night."

"I have an idea," said Castle.

Beckett regarded him. "I'm listening," she said.

"From her clothes at the inn, Maria Holsten wasn't from any frontier town. She was a city girl. And if she was from a city…"

"Then Coonan may be as well," Beckett said, finishing Castle's sentence.

"Exactly. I can go to the library and look through the city newspapers, see if there's any mention of a Mr. Coonan."

Beckett nodded. The Whitefall library was one of the recent additions made possible by the town's growth. "That's actually a good idea. Why don't you do that, and let us know if you find anything."

"Sure thing," Castle said, and he trotted off towards the library.

Ryan and Esposito watched him. "What do you make of him?" Esposito asked.

"I'm not sure," Beckett admitted. "But there's more to him than meets the eye."

* * *

The following morning, Beckett arrived at the office just after sunrise, as usual. She sat at her desk and opened the logbook. Ryan's notes indicated that the evening had been uneventful, aside from a minor brawl in the saloon. Closing the book, she reflected on the increasing incidents of rowdiness in the town. Something would have to be done soon to nip that trend in the bud. For now, though, she had a murder to solve.

Beckett opened the notebook containing the facts and her speculations about the Holsten murder. Reviewing evidence in the light of a new day was often helpful. Some time later, lost in thought, she glanced up to see Castle enter the office with two steaming cups in his hand.

"Morning, Sheriff," he said. "Care for some coffee? They made some for me at the inn. Didn't mind me taking it out when I said it was for the sheriff."

A man bringing her coffee. Beckett tried not to smile. She could get used to this.

"Thanks," she said, simply. "Find anything at the library?"

"Not yet," Castle said, pulling up a chair next to her desk. "I convinced the librarian to stay open an hour later last night, but there's more still newspapers to comb through. Meanwhile, I had another idea."

"Yes?" Beckett said.

"What did Maria Holsten do when Jonas told her his name? She wrote it down. That says to me she's organized, and what's more, perhaps she's used to writing down and organizing information. To the point that she does it automatically. We can also assume that she's single. There was no ring, she's not here with a husband. So perhaps she was working for someone."

Beckett nodded, following Castle's train of thought. "In what capacity? Perhaps as an assistant?"

"That's what I was thinking," Castle said. "And judging from her clothes, she was paid reasonably well. Perhaps she worked for someone well to do."

"Interesting," said Beckett. "That give us another angle to explore. If you don't mind, it'd be helpful if you continued your research in the library. Ryan hasn't found anyone named Coonan who came into town lately. Esposito hasn't returned, so it seems he's come up empty so far as well."

"Of course," said Castle, "he may be using an assumed name, and we don't know what he looks like."

"I know," agreed Beckett. "But we still…"

Just then, the office door opened. The man closed the door behind him, planted his feet, took hold of the lapels of his jacket, and slowly scanned the office interior. He had a distinguished air about him, with sleek grey hair combed straight back, bushy eyebrows, clear blue eyes, prominent nose, mustache and goatee. He was in fairly good shape for a man of his age with only a slight bulge in the belly. His three-piece, grey suit was accented by a gold watch chain strung across his waistcoat.

Beckett regarded the man for just a moment before recognition kicked in. It had been years since she'd seen him, and he'd been clean-shaven then.

Standing up, she said, "Senator? Senator Bracken?"

"Katherine Beckett," the senator said. "Sheriff. Your parents would be so proud of you."

Beckett went to the senator and they hugged each other for a moment.

Castle stood up, a smile on his face.

"Rick Castle?" the senator said. "And what brings you to these parts?"

"Speaking tour, Senator," Castle said. "You here to try to win your money back?"

"Mr. Castle," the senator said with a stern voice. "Are you insinuating that a U.S. Senator would engage in gambling?"

Beckett glanced from one man to the other, each maintaining perfect poker faces. When they finally broke out laughing, she relaxed.

"I gather you two have met, " she said.

"We might have attended some of the same social gatherings," Castle said, "at which no gambling whatsoever took place."

"That's more like it," the senator said with a smile. He and Castle shook hands.

"And how do you know the sheriff?" Castle asked.

Beckett answered. "My father was the senator's lawyer for years. But more than that, they were best friends. Senator Bracken was like an uncle to me."

"And you like a niece to me, my dear," said the senator. "I'm touring my constituency, getting the pulse of the people, you know. When I heard you'd become sheriff, well I had to start here, didn't I, and see for myself."

"Well, welcome to Whitefall, Senator. I'd love to catch up, but I'm in the middle of a murder inquiry. If you like, I can walk you over to the mayor's office and he can give you a proper welcome."

"That would be wonderful, dear, thank you. But first let me give you a piece of advice," he said leaning towards Beckett and speaking in a mock whisper. "Keep a close eye on that Castle fellow. You have to wonder about a man who makes a living writing about crime."

"I heard that," Castle said.

* * *

It was getting on for 11 PM when Beckett finally got up and stretched. Tired as she was, it would be hard to sleep tonight, knowing a killer was still out there. They'd made so little progress today. Castle had finished going through the papers this afternoon and turned up nothing. She shook her head. She had starting to think of Castle as part of her team. When did that happen?

He'd gone back to the inn at midday to do some more writing. Hopefully not about this case, Beckett thought to herself. Better confirm that tomorrow.

The senator had come round again, asking if she could join him for supper, but she needed to be here. All kidding aside, he had vouched for Castle's character, confirming her feeling that he was likely not involved in the incident. But this man Coonan, he was certainly familiar with Castle's books. That should mean something, but she couldn't yet grasp what.

She kept coming back to Castle. He was unlike any man she had met. From the start, he'd respected her position as sheriff and treated her as an equal, even bringing her coffee. He'd spent nearly two days in the library searching through newspapers, a task that even her deputies, dedicated as they were, would have balked at. Far from being a traveling huckster, as she'd initially assumed, he was respectful, intelligent, resourceful and dedicated. Better not to continue down that line of inquiry, she thought to herself.

Ryan and Esposito had come up as empty as Castle. No one in the town or neighbouring farms had heard of a man named Coonan. And that left her up a blind alley facing a brick wall. She needed more information, a new lead. The question was, from where? What was she overlooking?

After putting out the lamps and locking the office door, Beckett strolled down the street, lost in thought. But when she felt the barrel of a gun poke into her back, she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Keep walkin', _Sheriff_," a man's voice behind her said. "You and I have some unfinished business to take care of."

Prodded by the gun, Beckett continued walking. That voice. She knew that voice. She had to get him to talk some more.

"Coonan, I presume," she said.

"At your service. So the brat did know my name. Too bad we didn't snuff him on the spot. Well, we can fix that, starting with you."

"You won't get away with this," Beckett said, working to keep her voice level. "Every lawman in the state will be out to hunt you down."

The man laughed. "Let 'em try. Might as well try to catch a ghost."

Beckett glanced around, looking for someone she might signal, but there was no one. The street was deserted, dark, and quiet. She could hear only their footsteps and the chirp of the odd cricket.

_Here I am again, on a dark street, alone, threatened by a man with a gun. But I'm not a helpless little girl anymore. There has to be a way to turn this around. _

Suddenly she knew where she'd heard that voice before. And then, as she started to clench her fists, there came the sound of a pistol being cocked. Her assailant stopped and there was another voice.

"Ghost or no, you want to consider your next move carefully, friend, otherwise your head may end up someplace other than on your shoulders."

Beckett swung around and twisted the gun away from her assailant. Behind him, a man was pointing a gun at Coonan's head.

"Castle?"

Castle smiled. "Nice night for a stroll."

Taking handcuffs from her coat pocket, Beckett cuffed Coonan then drew her own pistol. Castle holstered his.

"Castle, what are you doing here?" Beckett asked.

"Well, I was thinking of Maria Holsten, and why she'd want to see the sheriff. Was it because she was in trouble? Not likely. She was from a city and they'd have plenty of their own lawmen. No need to look for help in a backwater town like this. No offense."

"None taken," Beckett said with a smile.

"So, if _she_ wasn't in trouble, perhaps someone else was. Perhaps she was here to deliver a warning. To you. Things started to make sense then. She leaves to warn you. Coonan learns about it, follows her and silences her. Then he sees that she's been in communication with the boy, so sets out to silence him as well. That led me to think that you might be next. Thought I'd keep an eye out just in case."

"I may have underestimated you, Mr. Castle," said Beckett. "Perhaps you're not just a pretty city boy dressed like a dandy. No offense."

"None taken," Castle said, smiling back at her.

"If you could do me one more favour, Castle? Go and fetch Ryan. Mr. Coonan and I will take a stroll over to the office. I have a nice jail cell ready just for him."

Coonan was trembling with anger as Beckett regarded him. Tall, over six feet, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and thick mustache. She couldn't swear it was the face, but the voice…

"Let's go," she told him.

"You'll be sorry for this," Coonan snarled.

"Not as sorry as you," Beckett said, giving him a shove to move him along.

When Ryan and Castle entered the office, Coonan, still handcuffed, was seated while Beckett sat on top of her desk, pistol pointed in his direction.

"So," said Ryan. "I see there's been a development."

Beckett raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Coonan. "Mr. Coonan, you walk with a decided limp in your left leg. Stand up."

After he stood, Beckett turned to Ryan. "Deputy, remove his trousers for me, please."

"Crazy injun bitch," Coonan spat out. "Go to hell."

Ryan walked over and slugged the prisoner with a right to the jaw, nearly toppling Coonan over. After steadying him, Ryan said, "Hobble your lip. We're going to do what the sheriff asked. Got that? Or do I need to have another word with you?"

Castle, meanwhile, was staring at Coonan. He loosened his tie and sat down. Beckett noticed this, and understood. He'd likely been full of adrenalin. Shock was probably starting to settle in.

As he undid Coonan's belt, Ryan asked, "What are you looking for, Sheriff?"

Castle answered, his voice choking. "You're looking for a stab wound on his left thigh."

Beckett shot him a look. "How did you know that?"

"Because I put it there."

Beckett's mouth opened and closed.

"There it is," Ryan confirmed. "A nice scar on the left thigh. Stabbed some time ago, I should think, it's an old scar."

Clearing her throat, Beckett said, "Mr. Coonan, you're under the arrest for the murder of Maria Holsten, the kidnapping of Jonas Smith, and… and the murder of Johanna Beckett."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Your mother?" he asked.

Beckett nodded. "Get him dressed and take him into the cell. Castle, come with me. I have some questions for you."

Beckett led him to a small room in the back of the office and closed the door. Then she sat down. A few seconds later the tears came. Castle pulled up a chair and offered her a handkerchief.

"My mother," Beckett sobbed. "My poor, poor mother."

Castle reached over and put a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps she can rest a bit easier, now you've caught her killer."

Both stunned, both pale, they simply looked at each other for a time.

Finally, Beckett said, "That was you? All those years ago in Washington?"

Castle nodded. "I was out with friends. Up to no good, really," he smiled slightly. "I was taking a shortcut home when I heard the shot. I ran to the lane, saw your mother lying there and a man approaching you with a gun. Then I saw the knife. I just acted from instinct. I was terrified. I shook for hours after that."

Without thought, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Beckett took Castle's hand in hers.

Castle paused, regarding Beckett. "Until just now, I had no idea that you were the girl in that lane."

"You saved my life," said Beckett. And tonight, years later, you saved me again. From the same man."

"That night's what pushed me in the direction of crime stories," Castle continued. "At least on paper, I can see justice done."

"And that's what led me to choose the law. To try to keep what happened to my family from happening to others. My father died a few years later. He sent me off to boarding school, then drank himself to death. Really, two people died that night."

"I'm sorry," Castle said, squeezing her hand back, resting his other hand on her knee. Beckett smiled through her teary eyes. Castle winked in return, and Beckett found herself laughing, hardly knowing why, yet not caring. This felt right.

Finally, she stood. Castle did likewise. Then Beckett rushed to him and kissed him, long and hard. Castle wrapped his arms around her, returning her kisses, running his hands up and down her back, crushing him to her.

Beckett broke free for a moment and caught her breath. Looking in Castle's eyes, she said, "Mr. Castle, you're going to come with me."

Castle nodded silently.

Taking his hand, Beckett added, "I need to keep you under close observation. All night."

Castle swallowed. "What an extraordinary woman you are, Sheriff Beckett."

"Kate."

"Kate," said Castle. "Rick."

Beckett considered that. "I think I like Castle better."

"Call me what you like. Just don't call me guilty."

"I don't know," Beckett said. "Come morning, you may be guilty of something. I might have to cuff you."

Castle smiled. "My safe word is 'apples'," he said.

* * *

_To be continued in Chapter 3._


	3. Chapter 3

_Taking his hand, Beckett added, "I need to keep you under close observation. All night."_

_Castle swallowed. "What an extraordinary woman you are, Sheriff Beckett."_

"_Kate."_

"_Kate," said Castle. "Rick." _

_Beckett considered that. "I think I like Castle better."_

"_Call me what you like. Just don't call me guilty."_

"_I don't know," Beckett said. "Come morning, you may be guilty of something. I might have to cuff you."_

_Castle smiled. "My safe word is 'apples'," he said._

* * *

Beckett loved walking down the street at sunrise this time of year. It was as if the main road stretched far beyond the town, all the way to the horizon, all the way to the sun. And as the sun rose, and turned the sky pink, it seemed to look down upon the town and touch the buildings with its warmth.

Despite the cool morning air, Beckett felt warm within. After all, she'd arrested the man who'd murdered her mother. And then there was Castle. What to make of him? A seemingly overgrown boy who by turns could be extremely intelligent and perceptive, and deadly serious when the occasion arose, as it had last night. And as a lover, well, Beckett smiled, thinking of the pleasures he had shown her.

But it wasn't just the physical pleasures. It was the joy of feeling comfortable enough to truly open up to a man, to speak about her mother in a way that she hadn't done for years.

Castle had listened thoughtfully, stroking her hair as she related how her mother had sometimes taken Kate away from Washington, with its artificial formalities and undercurrents of plotting and deception.

"Mother was the daughter of a chief. She met my father while he was representing the tribe during a land claim dispute. They fell in love, and my grandfather gave them his blessing in gratitude for having won the case. That case was what brought my father to the attention of Senator Bracken.

"After I came along, and I was old enough, Mother and I would leave the city sometimes, taking only what we could carry, and explore unsettled forests and plains, wearing traditional Apache clothing. Men's clothing, buckskin leggings and shirts." Beckett smiled. "My mother was always more hunter and warrior than the nurturing, work-in-the-field type.

"She taught me to track and shoot with a bow. Sometimes we'd hide in the underbrush or under piles of leaves and just wait and watch the wildlife. I learned patience. She likened hiding under the cover of leaves to wearing the corsets and dresses of the big city: uncomfortable, but necessary, providing cover and allowing you to pounce on your unsuspecting prey."

At which point, Beckett had pounced on Castle. "Help!" he'd called in mock fear. "Someone call the sheriff. Oh, never mind."

But that was likely all done. Castle would pack up and move on to the next town, and they might never meet again, though the memory of last night would linger for a long time.

Rather than dwell on that, Beckett shifted her thoughts back to Coonan. There was only one thing bothering her, something that she still needed to resolve. Motive. Why had Coonan killed her mother and Maria Holsten? What possible connection could there be?

Entering the office, Beckett saw that Ryan was just coming back from the cell, bleary-eyed but not so tired he couldn't smile upon seeing the sheriff. Beckett was surprised that she wasn't bleary-eyed herself. But she'd hardly ever felt more fresh and alive.

"Morning, Sheriff," said Ryan.

"How's our prisoner?" Beckett asked.

"He could use a lesson in manners, but otherwise he's fine. I just checked, he's still sleeping."

"Hmm. I'll be right back," said Beckett. She grabbed a couple of buckets on the way out, walked to the well a block to the east, and filled them. When she came back she told Ryan to get a few hours of shut-eye. He grinned, knowing what she had in mind, and left gratefully.

Carrying the buckets to the cell, Beckett regarded the prisoner for a minute then threw the water from one bucket over the sleeping man. He sputtered awake.

Wiping the water from his eyes, Coonan muttered, "What the hell?"

"You were snoring," Beckett said.

His expression changing from confusion to hate, Coonan said, "Damn crazy injun bitch." He got to his feet and approached the bars. "I'm going to…"

But before he could finish, Beckett tossed the water from the second bucket at him.

He sputtered, wiped the water from his eyes, and sat back down again, thoroughly soaked.

"I could do this all day," Beckett said. "It's actually kind of fun. Or you could keep a civil tongue in your head and answer some questions."

Coonan said nothing.

"Why did you kill these people?" Beckett asked. "Holsten and my mother. And why did you try to kill me? What did you have to gain?"

Coonan's eyes darted about, his jaw clenched. After a moment he said, "You've no idea who you're dealing with."

"You think I'm scared of you?" Beckett asked, planting her feet and crossing her arms.

Coonan smiled crookedly. "It's not me you should be scared of."

"Who then? Your gang? We know there were others with you when you kidnapped Jonas Smith. We'll be going after them next."

Coonan still said nothing, but the smile didn't leave his face.

Beckett looked at him closely. "You were taking orders," she said. "Someone ordered you to come after us. Who?"

"I've got nothing to say, except if you know what's good for you, you'll let me go. Now. While you still can."

Beckett regarded him thoughtfully. "Better get some rest, Mr. Coonan. You're going to need it."

Heading back to her desk, Beckett stuffed her hands in her coat and furrowed her brow as she thought about what the prisoner had said.

She shook her head, threw her coat over the back of the chair, and sat at her desk. When Esposito came in shortly afterwards, Beckett filled him in on recent events.

"So, you've been busy," Esposito said.

You've no idea, Beckett thought to herself.

"Something tells me we're on to something big here," she said. "Send a letter out on the next post to the authorities in New Dunsmuir. They have more secure facilities. Tell them we need to transfer a murder suspect and ask them to get a wagon to us as soon as possible."

"You got it, Sheriff" Esposito said, and left.

* * *

After the letter was dispatched, Beckett asked Esposito to look into a report of some disappearing cattle at a nearby ranch. Later, just before noon, Beckett was still alone in the office when a bleary-eyed Ryan and Castle entered together. Eyeing Castle, Ryan asked, "I was up all night with the prisoner. What's your excuse?"

Beckett was thankful Castle did not look at her before replying.

"Was on a roll, writing. When I noticed the time, it was already sunrise. It was good, some pretty hot romance between the protagonists. I might have to tone it down a bit, though, come to think of it."

Beckett, working on not letting her face redden, absorbed herself in her paperwork.

"Listen," Ryan, said. "Don't be hasty. Maybe you need someone to read it over before you throw it away."

"Why, you may be right," said Castle. Then he frowned in contemplation. "The question is, who?"

Ryan coughed. "Well, you've been some help to us around here. I figure it's the least I could do."

"Ryan," Beckett said, "unless you're turning in your badge to take up a new career, you might want to get back to work."

"Sure thing, Sheriff," Ryan said regretfully.

Castle shrugged his shoulders then pulled up a chair and sat down next to Beckett's desk.

"You know what I was thinking, Sheriff?" said Castle.

Beckett looked up at him.

"Motive. Coonan did it, no question. But why?"

Beckett shook her head. His line of thinking was the same as hers. Looking back at him, she said, "All I've been able to gather from him is that he was taking orders. He won't say from who."

"From whom," Castle corrected.

Beckett smiled at this, and how familiar this seemed already. Her and Castle, tossing ideas back and forth. She'd wondered how he would behave this morning. The answer seemed to be, no differently. There were no sly winks in her direction, no sign he'd bragged to Ryan about his conquest last night. Her regret at his likely imminent departure deepened.

For now, though, Beckett could see the gears turning in his head. She waited for him to speak.

"We've figured that Maria Holsten was likely working for someone. What if it was for Coonan's boss? She could have overheard something she shouldn't have, and that's what led her here."

"I don't know," said Beckett. "That's a lot of speculation on top of more speculation."

"Agreed," Castle said, "but it's all we have until something more concrete turns up."

Beckett considered this. "Alright," she said. "Let's run with that for now. Let's also assume that Coonan and his boss are based in Washington, which is where my mother was murdered. We can contact Washington officials to see if Maria Holsten lived there and if so, who she worked for."

"We also know," Beckett continued after a moment's thought, "that whoever orchestrated this is familiar with your books, and knew you'd be here."

Castle shook his head. "Oh, what a tangled web we weave." Then he sat bolt upright, as if jolted by a shock.

"What?" Beckett asked.

"Oh, I just had a thought," he whispered. "A very horrible thought."

"Tell me," Beckett said.

Castle shook his head. "No. Not now. Let me keep this to myself for a bit."

Beckett was going to follow up, but Esposito opened the office door and called to her. "Sheriff," he said, "looks like there's some excitement out here. You better come out."

Beckett sighed and picked up her log book. "Ryan, you guard the fort. We'll go out and see what this is about."

She and Castle followed Esposito outside. A couple of buildings down, a group of a half-dozen men were expostulating and gesturing, clearly upset about something.

"Gentlemen," Beckett said as they approached the group. "What seems to be the trouble?"

Marty Johnson, the town blacksmith, turned towards her. "Sheriff, someone done stole our horses."

Billy, the teenage boy who looked after the stables, was also part of the group. "Even the stables, Sheriff. All the horses from the stables is gone. Every last one. No spares for the post when it comes in this afternoon."

Esposito raised an eyebrow, and Beckett grimaced as each of them tried to tell his story over top of the others. Beckett set down her book on the water barrel next to her.

"OK, OK, one at a time. Marty, let's start with you."

But before she could query the man, she heard Castle yell out from behind her, "Take cover! Now!"

As she felt herself pulled down behind the water barrels, shots rang out overhead. "Horsemen," Castle told her when she rolled onto her back. "Three of them. Armed."

"Get indoors!" Beckett yelled at the men, still standing there in shock. Roused, finally, they dashed into the nearest building.

Esposito was crouched down beside her and Castle. More shots came. Beckett risked a peek 'round the barrel. The men were dismounted now, using their horses as shields. Beckett nodded at Esposito and they both let off a volley at the attackers.

"I can help," Castle said. "Do you have a spare?"

Esposito handed him a revolver. "When we stop to reload, keep them busy."

Castle nodded.

Beckett got one of them. After a minute Esposito got another. There was just one left, and Beckett used the opportunity to reload. She looked at Castle and said, "Go."

Castle took aim, fired, and the gun flew out of the outlaw's hand. Castle stood and kept his gun trained at him.

Esposito, now reloaded, stood and said, "Nice shooting."

Castle turned to him, his face blank. "I was aiming for his head," he said.

Beckett stood, suppressing a giggle. "Thanks, Castle, but maybe next time you should just leave the shooting to us."

"That might be for the best," Castle agreed, and he gave his pistol back to Esposito.

While Esposito kept his gun trained on him, Beckett walked up to the outlaw and cuffed him.

"Looks like we're going to have a full house," Beckett said to Esposito. "Lets get this guy in a cell then we can find out what's going on."

But just then, they heard another shot, this time from the Sheriff's office.

"Go!" Castle said to them. "I've got this guy."

Beckett and Esposito raced to the office, guns drawn. Standing on either side of the door, Beckett nodded and Esposito entered; Beckett followed.

Ryan was down, bleeding badly. "Help him," Beckett said. She saw another man face down at the back, near the cells. She approached him cautiously. He was lying in a pool of blood. Beckett checked; he had no pulse. Hearing a choke, she looked up and saw that Coonan had also been shot. He was lying on his bench, hands on his chest.

Beckett went back to Esposito. "How is he," she asked?

Esposito shook his head. At that point, Castle came in.

"I left our man with the blacksmith," he said, then stopped, taking in the scene.

"Lanie. Go get her. Now!" Beckett said.

Castle dashed back out the door.

Beckett crouched beside Ryan. Esposito had opened Ryan's shirt and was using a compress to try to staunch the bleeding from his chest.

"Stay with me, pardner," Esposito said. "You don't want to leave me to deal with the Sheriff all on my own."

Ryan licked his lips and coughed. "Guy came in, guns blazing. Shot me before I could react."

"Easy, Ryan," Beckett said. "Don't talk."

Ryan shook his head. "He headed back and shot Coonan. I just managed to reach my gun and took the guy down," Ryan said, smiling faintly.

"Good work," Beckett said, her voice quivering. "Now just stay with us. After all, you still owe me for the week's advance I gave you."

Ryan smiled faintly and looked at Esposito. "Crying like a girl," he said. "I always knew you were soft."

"Now you better get better," Esposito said, "'cause I'm really going to have to whip your ass."

Ryan's eyes fluttered. He said, "Thanks," then took a rasping breath. "Thanks for being such a great partner. And… friend."

And with that, his breathing stopped. Esposito, crying freely, closed Ryan's eyes and held his head in his lap.

Stunned, Beckett wept also. Within a few seconds her emotions ran the gamut from disbelief to distraught to fury. Wiping her eyes, she marched to the cell and opened the door. Coonan was in bad shape. His eyes were closed, his breathing raspy.

Beckett slapped his face. "Coonan," she said. No response. She slapped him again. "Coonan!"

Coonan's eyes partly opened.

"You've been hurt badly," Beckett said. "Doc's on the way, but it looks like you're soon going to meet your maker. Wouldn't it be better to make a clean breast of things before that happens?"

Coughing, Coonan tried to sit, but didn't have the strength. He let himself fall back onto the bench. "Might as well," he rasped. "That bastard. As if I would have talked." He looked at Beckett.

"Who?" Beckett asked.

"He's tying up loose ends. Going to make a run for president. You know who."

Beckett's eyes widened. "The senator? Senator Bracken? No. No way."

Laughing until his laughter turned into a bloody cough, Coonan swallowed and said, "Years ago, there was a robbery. A Brinks truck. A lawman tracked down the thieves and killed them. He owed Bracken a favour. A big favour. Delivered the money to Bracken, then claimed to the law that he'd never found the loot. Bracken used the money to fund his campaigns.

"Your father was Bracken's lawyer. He found out, but couldn't do nothing. Lawyer confidentiality and all that. But it affected him and he couldn't hide it. His damned injun wife knew something was up, came snooping around, and found something she shouldn't. Bracken saw her leaving his office in a hurry, saw the paperwork she'd dug out of his desk while he was out. She was on her way to the train station when I cornered her. And you. Bracken's orders.

"When you survived, Bracken used that. Threatened to kill you if your father ever spoke up. Now that he's gone, Bracken don't want any unexpected disclosures when he runs for president." He paused to wipe the blood from his mouth. "Holsten, she organized Coonan's campaigns. She must have got wind of what was really happening. That's why she came here, why she had to die. Bracken knew that damnable writer was going to be here, said to make it look like something from his book and pin it on him."

Coonan coughed again and closed his eyes.

Beckett felt her legs collapse from under her. She sat on the floor, too stunned to speak. Then she nodded to herself. Castle had already worked this out. No wonder he'd been reluctant to give voice to his suspicions.

Suddenly aware that someone was speaking, Beckett turned and saw Lanie.

"Sheriff," Lanie said. When Beckett didn't respond, Lanie knelt down beside her. "Kate!"

Beckett, too full of too many emotions, was mute. "Are you hurt?" Lanie asked.

Beckett shook her head. Lanie, her own eyes teary, got up to attend to Coonan. Beckett roused herself and went to the front where Esposito still knelt over Ryan.

Becket checked her pistol. "Esposito," she said, "you want to catch the bastard that did this?"

"Catch him?" said Esposito, standing. "I'd like to put the noose around his neck myself."

"Come with me," she said. "It was Bracken. All this time, it was Bracken. "Let's go get him."

They marched up the street towards the inn. It was strangely quiet. After the gunfight, no one was out of doors. Those who were at their windows saw the sheriff and deputy coming and backed away.

Bracken was just leaving the inn as they approached. He stopped.

"Senator Bracken," Beckett said levelly, "you're under arrest."

Bracken laughed uproariously. "Arrest? Oh, I don't think so my dear."

At that moment a half dozen men exited the inn, all of them armed, pistols trained on Beckett and Esposito. The sheriff and deputy both drew their guns and aimed at the senator.

"I seem to have you outnumbered," Bracken said, amusement still in his voice.

"Senator," said Beckett, "I'm going to see you put in the ground, one way or the other. If I have to go too, small price to pay."

"I see, I see," said the Senator. Then he looked towards the inn's entranceway and nodded. Another gunman came out, holding Caroline around the neck with his left arm, the pistol in his right pointed at her temple.

"And what about this sweet lady?" Bracken asked. "You willing to sacrifice her as well?"

Another half dozen men appeared on horses, bringing spares for the senator and his gunmen. Caroline was whimpering, begging to be spared. Beckett nodded to Esposito and they dropped their guns. The man released Caroline and she dashed back into the inn.

"Now that's more like it," Bracken said, mounting a horse. He took a pistol from one of his men. "I'm truly sorry it's come to this, my dear. You were like a niece to me."

Beckett spat on the ground. "Fiery," said the senator. "Just like your mother. A shame you're going to share her fate."

He raised the pistol, but before he could fire, a shot rang out and the gun flew out of his hand. The gunmen brought their horses about to see where the gunfire had come from. One raised his pistol, only to have it shot out of his hand as well. Other shots were fired on the ground in front of the horses and overhead.

"Let's go," the senator snarled. "We'll deal with the sheriff later."

As the senator and their men rode away, Beckett picked up her gun and took aim, but the outlaws were already out of range.

"Dammit!" Beckett said, stamping a foot on the ground. "He's getting away and there's not a thing we can do about it."

"Wait, look" said Esposito, pointing down the street.

Beckett and Esposito saw a man down leap from a nearby second floor balcony onto a horse below. He fairly flew up the street, pulling the horse to a stop across from the sheriff. The horse reared and the man waved. The horse was pure white, a magnificent stallion, muscles rippling in the sunlight as its forelegs kicked at the air. The man wore a white hat and… and a black mask.

"Hi-yo Silver," he called. "Away!"

And the horse leapt forward, speeding out of town faster than anything Beckett had ever seen. She and Esposito looked at each other, slack-jawed.

Wiping his brow, Esposito said, "Who was that masked man?"

* * *

_To be concluded in Chapter 4._


	4. Chapter 4

"_Wait, look" said Esposito, pointing down the street. _

_Beckett and Esposito saw a man down leap from a nearby second floor balcony onto a horse below. He fairly flew up the street, pulling the horse to a stop across from the sheriff. The horse reared and the man waved. The horse was pure white, a magnificent stallion, muscles rippling in the sunlight as its forelegs kicked at the air. The man wore a white hat and… and a black mask. _

"_Hi-yo Silver," he called. "Away!"_

_And the horse leapt forward, speeding out of town faster than anything Beckett had ever seen. She and Esposito looked at each other, slack-jawed. _

_Wiping his brow, Esposito said, "Who was that masked man?"_

* * *

Beckett holstered her gun. "It doesn't matter who he was," she said. "The only thing that matters is Bracken. Get me a horse. I don't care if you have to beg, borrow or steal one. I'm going after them."

After a moment's thought, Beckett continued. "Meanwhile, I'm going to have another talk with Jonas Smith. I'll meet you back at the office."

Beckett felt surprisingly calm but focused as she strode to the general store. More focused than she'd ever been.

Standing to the side of the door, she knocked. "It's the sheriff," Beckett called. "It's OK. I'm alone. I'm coming in."

As Beckett entered, Frank slowly stood up from behind the counter, shotgun in hand.

"It's OK, Frank, they've gone," Beckett said. "But I need to speak to Jonas again."

Wiping his brow, Frank put the shotgun down on the counter, his hands trembling slightly. "Dorothy," he called. "Come out front. Bring Jonas with you."

Dorothy Smith, wide-eyed and teary, slowly emerged from the back room. She looked at the sheriff, then her husband. Frank nodded, then she brought out Jonas, her right arm around his shoulders.

Beckett sat on a stool. "Jonas," she said, "I have just a few more questions for you. Is that OK?"

Jonas nodded wordlessly.

"I need to find the men who took you before. To do that, I need to know where they took you. Is there anything you can tell me that would help?"

Jonas swallowed. "After the masked man freed me, we rode downhill, south mostly. The sun was in my eyes. Then we turned to the east and travelled just off the road towards town."

"That's great, Jonas. Now, do you remember how long it took you get back to town?"

Jonas scratched his head. "About an hour? Hard to tell, I was so sleepy."

Beckett put a hand on his shoulder. "You did great, Jonas. You know, I just might have to deputize you when you get a bit older. You've helped bring a murderer to justice."

Jonas face split into a grin. "Thanks, Sheriff. Now go get 'em."

As Beckett was leaving, she couldn't help but smile as she heard Dorothy speak to her son.

"Jonas Smith, you are _not_ going to become a deputy. Not over my dead body. Guns, getting shot at and all. No thank you."

"Aw, Mom!" Jonas said.

Her smile didn't last long, however. Beckett had a rough idea of where Jonas had been taken, and it was likely the direction Bracken and his gang were heading.

When she got back to the office, there was a horse tied up in front. Esposito, patting the horse affectionately as it drank from a trough, looked up as she approached. "A farm hand just came into town. I persuaded him to let us borrow his horse for a while. He's all yours."

Lanie emerged from the office. "Coonan is gone," she said.

Beckett nodded. "Come inside, both of you."

She sat them down and told them everything Coonan had told her. "In case I don't make it back, this has to get out. People have to know about Bracken."

"That's not going to be a problem," Esposito said. "You're going to get this guy. Your mother will be watching over you."

Beckett nodded, then a thought came to her. She went to the back of the office and opened a cabinet. Removing her gun and holster, she placed them inside, then withdrew the bow and quiver of arrows that had once belonged to her mother. She slung the bow across her back, slipped on the strap of the buckskin quiver, and returned to face her friends.

Esposito nodded wordlessly. He understood. Lanie approached her and gave her a hug.

"Be careful girl, but you get this sonofabitch."

She had no words, so Beckett simply nodded and left the office. Mounting the horse, she headed out of town to the west.

The main road ran east-west, parallel to the river Tams which lay to the south of Whitefall. The river meandered westward, then snaked its way north, double-backed to the east, and then north again to the west of New Dunsmuir.

East of Whitehall were cattle ranches, some of which had been owned by the same families for generations. They were law-abiding folk, for the most part, though keeping the peace between neighboring homesteads was a challenge at times. To the west, where Beckett was riding now, there were several new wheat farms that had been established within the past decade. North of town, the land was rugged, mostly rock and scrub. This was where the new silver and copper mines had opened up last year.

Northwest of Whitefall and east of the river, the land was forested and hilly, the larger hills dotted with many outcrops of bare rock. There were paths through these hills, not passable by wagon, but on horseback a good rider could cut through to New Dunsmuir in less time than by the main road.

As she rode, Beckett contemplated Bracken's next move. If it was her, she'd try to reach the next town and get a coach back to Washington, leaving the gang to settle with her and any other witnesses. The nearest major town, of course, was New Dunsmuir. If he made it there, it would be too easy for him to disappear. She had to get to him before that happened. The question was, which way would he take? It was forty miles of easy riding along the road, but less than twenty if you cut across the hilly terrain. Again, if it was her, she'd cut across the hills. So that's where she would go. Another half hour or so would take her to where the path through the hills met the road.

Before riding much further, however, the sight of a horse chewing on some roadside grass brought her to a halt. Near the horse a man was gagged and trussed up like a calf. One of the gang? No time to worry about him, she thought, spurring her horse forward. She'd investigate later. If she survived this.

Further along, she spotted two more horses, and two more men similarly bound and gagged. He was picking them off, she realized. The masked man they'd seen. Could he really be the Lone Ranger? Squaring her shoulders, she reminded herself that it didn't matter who he was. She had only one purpose now.

After a time, Beckett reined the horse to a stop. From here you could go off-road and take one of the paths through the hills to the north. From the tracks on the road and the flattened grass to the side, it was clear that a group of horses had recently done just that. With a grim smile, Beckett clicked her tongue and cued her horse to the right, riding slightly faster than she had thus far. The senator likely wasn't used to riding long distances, and would need to rest before long. Soon she would have him.

The path took her through some light forest, then on a more or less steady incline. They would expect to be followed, and ambush was a real risk. However, Beckett was loathe to waste any more time than was absolutely necessary. Deciding to take the risk, she picked up the pace.

After about a quarter of an hour, she found another man bound and gagged like the others. There was no horse in sight though. Either it had wandered off, or she was near the encampment and this man was a lookout. Just beyond him the hill crested. She dismounted, tied her horse to a tree, crouched down, and approached the crest of the hill cautiously.

The hill led down to a valley with four men scattered about, one checking a stack of supplies, another seeing to their horses. Two others were standing outside the entrance to a cave. No sign of the senator, so he was likely holed up in there. Putting her bow down and laying herself flat, she examined the area more closely. There were two more men, each settled on a rise of land, acting as lookouts, yet still no sign at all of…

At the sound of movement behind her, Beckett whirled onto her back while retrieving the knife from her boot.

"Easy, Sheriff," said the masked man. He was crouched down, just behind her, and made no move to defend himself. "We're on the same side."

"Are we?" Beckett asked, moving to a kneeling position, still brandishing the knife.

"We both want to bring Senator Bracken to justice. I'm just here to help. Tell me how."

Beckett regarded the man. Could she trust him? She couldn't have said why, but somehow she thought she could.

Putting away the knife, she asked him, "Those men tied up, here and back along the road. You did that?"

The man nodded.

"Why?" Beckett asked. "What's in it for you?"

The man was silent for a moment. "That's a long story, Sheriff, and we have work to do."

Beckett nodded and rolled over onto her front again. The masked man moved beside her.

"There are still two lookouts," Beckett said. "I'll take the one on the left. You get the other. When that's done, I'm going to walk right into their camp. While their attention is on me, you pick them off from behind. Bracken has got to be in that cave. He's mine, understand?"

The masked man nodded and moved away. Beckett watched him until he was out of sight, then moved in the other direction. Silently, using all the craft her mother had taught her, Beckett made her way around the valley until she was close behind the lookout. Looking to her left, she saw that the masked man was also in position. She signaled, raising her left hand, and he raised his in acknowledgment.

There were loose rocks nearby. She selected one, hefted it, then silently moved towards the outlaw. Then, with one swift stroke, she struck the man in the base of the head, grabbing him and pulling him back from the crest of the hill. After gagging him with his own handkerchief and handcuffing him to a nearby tree, she looked to the other hill. Again, the masked man was ready. She signalled, then made her way down the hill, out of sight from the men below.

Finally, she took her bow in her left arm, withdrew an arrow from the quiver with her right, nocked the arrow, then stepped around the bend of the hill and forward towards Bracken's men.

"Drop your weapons," Beckett commanded evenly, an arrow aimed at the closest of them. "You're under arrest."

There was stunned silence for a moment, then guffaws as the men recovered.

"Well, well," one of them said, taking off his hat and wiping his brow. "Looks like we've had it, boys. This little girl has come to arrest us."

Laughing again, they started moving slowly towards her. Beckett saw the masked man come into the clearing, quietly approaching them from behind. She had to give him a bit more time.

Stepping back slightly, she said. "That's close enough. Stay right there."

"Or what?" the same man demanded.

"I'm here for Bracken. I don't care about you. Leave now and I won't have to take you into custody."

"She wants us to skedaddle," one of them said, coming to a halt. "I think we should give that some proper consideration. What do you fellas say?"

"Well, here's what I say," said another. "I ain't had me a woman for a while now, and this one looks mighty tasty."

"Mmm, she does at that," said another, licking his lips.

The masked man was still approaching carefully and was almost upon them.

"Last warning," Beckett said, as the men advanced a step further. Then, when they took yet another step forward, Beckett released the arrow, striking the first man in the shoulder.

As he bellowed with rage, the masked man tapped the rear-most man on the shoulder. When he turned around, a fist connected with his jaw and he fell to the ground.

As the others turned behind them, Beckett released another arrow, striking an outlaw in the leg. That just left one, and the masked man downed him with a blow to the midsection and a right hook.

Beckett nodded at the masked man, then nocked an arrow and approached the cave entrance.

Standing to one side, she called out, "Senator, it's over. Come out with your hands up."

A bullet whistled past her head in response. Beckett looked over to the masked man. He was heading to the nearby brush. Was he leaving?

"There's nowhere to go, Senator. Come out peacefully while you have the chance."

Another bullet was her only answer. Beckett glanced back at the masked man. What was he up to, rummaging around in the nearby brush?

"All these years," Beckett called into the cave. "Pretending you were our friend. I thought of you as an uncle!"

"Do you even know what I've been able to accomplish?" Bracken called back. "You think I was going to let your pathetic father and that… savage stop me?"

Beckett grimaced but refused to let the senator goad her into do something stupid. "You're a murderer, that's all you are. It's time you faced that."

The masked man was returning with a branch he had set on fire. Clever, she thought.

When he reached her, he whispered, "I'll toss this in. You'll be able to see him and he'll be blinded. That'll be your chance."

She nodded. "Do it," she said.

Standing beside the cave entrance, with Beckett to his right, the masked man threw the branch into the darkness.

There was an exclamation within, and a gunshot. Beckett rolled in front of the cave entrance and, fast as lightning, unleashed an arrow. From the agonized screech, Beckett knew the arrow had found its mark.

She drew another arrow while the masked man withdrew a pistol, each standing at either side of the cave entrance. In a moment, Bracken stumbled out, clutching the arrow that had pierced his midsection.

Beckett put away her arrow and slung the bow over her shoulder. The masked man holstered his pistol, gave a single, loud whistle, and a moment later his white stallion galloped into the clearing. While Beckett lay Bracken down on his back, the masked man took some rope and medical supplies from a saddlebag.

Kneeling over Bracken, he tore open the bloodstained shirt and said, "I don't think you hit any vital organs." He broke off the arrow shaft, causing Bracken to scream, then dressed the wound. "This will do until you get him to a doctor."

After tying the senator's arms and feet, he stood to face Beckett. "We need to talk," he said. "Bracken's not going anywhere."

Beckett was eager to get back to town, but the masked man had been helpful. Very helpful. "Fine," she said. "But quickly."

He lead her around the hill until they were out of sight of the outlaws. Turning his back to her, he took off his hat.

What is he doing, she wondered?

Then he removed his mask, and slowly turned to face her.

And Beckett, for the first and only time in her life, swooned and dropped to the ground.

When she opened her eyes, just a moment later, she stared at the face so close to hers.

"Castle?" she said.

"I'm sorry," he said, helping her up. "So sorry. I had no idea you're react like that. Are you alright?"

Beckett nodded then he helped her up. Beckett stared at him in disbelief. "Castle? You're the... Lone Ranger?"

Castle smiled and nodded. "What I said before was true," he said. "About your mother's murder leading me to writing. But I left out a couple of things in between."

"Go on," she said.

"I became a Texas Ranger. My men and I were making great strides, clearing out gangs of cattle rustlers, until one day they laid an ambush for us. We didn't see it coming. There were six of us. Five were killed, and I was left for dead. It was a close thing. But I recovered and vowed to seek justice. I realized it be a lot easier if the gang thought I was dead. So I put on the mask. I've worn it ever since, fighting for justice wherever I was most needed.

"But I needed cover. Somewhere to hide in plain sight. So I became Richard Castle, and wrote stories based on my time as a Ranger."

"Your muse," Beckett said. "The one you said was killed. That was… you?"

Castle nodded. "Writing books and going on speaking tours was the perfect cover for travelling the country."

Beckett shook her head, taking it all in. "But your voice. It was different while you wore your mask. I didn't recognize it at all."

"Have you heard of Charles Dickens?" Castle asked.

"Of course," Beckett said. "David Copperfield is my favourite book."

"Dickens' speaking tours are famous for the way he brings his characters to life. He doesn't just speak the dialog, he acts it out. I try to do the same thing, giving a different voice to each character in my stories. When I wear the mask, it's the same thing. I become a character with his own voice."

Noticing a nearby boulder, Beckett went to sit down, resting her head in her hands. Castle stood silently while she digested everything she'd heard.

"Back in town. You shot the gun right out of that outlaw's hands. You weren't aiming for his head, were you?"

Castle shook his head.

"And what about the silver bullets you use when you're dressed… like that? They must be pretty dear."

"They're a reminder," Castle said, "that life is dear." After a pause he added, "My income is partly from holdings in land and mines, including the silver mine near Whitefall."

"And us?" she asked finally. "Was that an act as well?"

Castle smiled, approached her, then got down on one knee and took her hand. "Kate Beckett, you're the most extraordinary woman I've ever met. I think I've felt a connection with you since the day we first met, all those years ago in Washington. We were bound to find each other again. I love you wholly and completely. Would you do me the very great honour of becoming my wife?"

Beckett, too stunned to speak, teared up, then wiped her eyes with her free hand. "Castle, I... I don't know. This is all too much. And I need to see this through. Bracken, I mean. I don't think I can even think about this until it's over. Until he's been tried and convicted."

Castle stood and nodded. "I understand. When it's done, I'll come back. We can talk then. In the meantime, so you don't forget me…" Castle withdrew something from his belt and placed it in the palm of Beckett's hand. A silver bullet.

Castle extended a hand to help Beckett to her feet. Beckett, smiling through her tears, cupped Castle's cheek. Castle took her hand, kissed it, and said, "For now, let's round up these men and bring them into town."

Beckett nodded, and Castle put back on the mask and white hat.

The sun was starting to set when Deputy Esposito heard a commotion outside. He exited the sheriff's office, walked towards the inn, then smiled. Sheriff Beckett, on horseback, was leading a group of men on foot, daisy-chained together with rope. Senator Bracken was stumbling along at the front. Cheers and applause greeted the sheriff as she entered the town, and she waved back to the townsfolk. A louder cheer erupted when word spread that, bringing up the rear, was the legendary masked man. Just before reaching the crowd, the white stallion reared and the Lone Ranger waved, then turned about and called to his stallion, "Hi-yo Silver! Away."

And as the crowd cheered lustily, the Lone Ranger rode off into the sunset.

Beckett struggled not to look back. For now, she had to move forward.

Esposito came up and patted her horse as he glanced at the men she had in tow. "Not bad, Sheriff," he said with a wink. "Not bad at all."

"I had some help," Beckett said, and held out the silver bullet.

Esposito's eyes widened, then he nodded and said. "About time you got here. The wagon from New Dunsmuir is here. They've been waiting for you."

"Well, you know how it is," Beckett said. "Seemed a shame not to take in the scenery on the way."

And with that, she urged her horse forward.

Senator Bracken stumbled after a moment. Esposito grabbed him and said, "Let me give you a hand, Senator."

In point of fact, the hand bore a remarkable resemblance to a right hook.

* * *

Eighteen months later, Sheriff Beckett stepped down from the coach onto the muddy main street of Whitefall. It was dark, the street was deserted, and a light rain fell, just as it had all those months ago. And as she had done before, Beckett lifted up her head, closed her eyes, and let the rain refresh her after her long journey.

Beckett felt at peace, more so than at any time of her life. Lifting up her skirts, she stepped briskly to the boardwalk and then strolled to the office.

The office was still lit, and Esposito was there, reading a book at his desk. He looked up as Beckett entered.

"It's over?" he asked.

Beckett nodded. "All over. He was unrepentant 'till the end. Thought he was a great American."

Esposito chortled. "Well, he can take that up with his new caretaker down below," he said.

"What's that you're reading?" Beckett asked.

Esposito smiled and tossed her the book. It featured the silhouette of a woman on the cover. The title was _Heat Wave_ by… Richard Castle. Beckett gulped and sat at her desk.

"Guess who's back in town?" Esposito asked. "He did a reading from his new book tonight. He's quite the performer."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Beckett said quietly.

"Oh, and you might want to check out the dedication," Esposito added.

Beckett flipped to the dedication page. "To the incomparable K.B." it said.

"Might be he's trying to tell you something," Esposito said.

Just then, the door opened and Castle rushed in, stopping abruptly when he saw Beckett.

Beckett and Castle were transfixed, lost in each others eyes. After a moment, Esposito coughed and said, "Well, time I was turning in. 'Night, Sheriff, Castle."

They both mumbled good night as Esposito left the office, grinning widely.

"I was looking out for the coach," Castle said after clearing his throat. "I came straight over." He pulled up a chair and sat next to Beckett's desk, just as he had done eighteen months before.

Beckett nodded. She couldn't speak. Then she looked down at the book.

"I see you have a new protagonist," she said.

"Yes. A female sheriff who goes up against great odds and triumphs."

"Well," she said, "I guess now I don't need to read the book."

"Oops," said Castle. "Spoilers."

"That's alright, Kemosabe."

"Kemo what?"

"A term of endearment. It's what my mother used to call my father."

Castle paused and blinked. "Does that mean…"

Beckett smiled. "Yes," she said, and kissed him.

* * *

_Legends tell of a masked man, the Lone Ranger and his faithful companion who were champions for justice in the wild west for many years._

_Javier Esposito became Whitefall's sheriff. He and Lanie Parish were married and raised two children: a son and daughter named Kevin and Kate. When Jonas Smith turned 20, Esposito appointed him deputy. Lanie Esposito was on hand to attend to Dorothy Smith, who collapsed upon hearing the news. _

_As for Richard Castle, he and Mrs. Castle toured the west tirelessly to promote the popular Sheriff Heat books. Over time, Mr. Castle came to write literary fiction and won many accolades. After raising three children, Mrs. Castle ran for office and became a U.S. Senator, her purpose, as she stated, to right the wrongs of disgraced Senator Bracken._


End file.
